


Day 9: An Argument

by Amata_Hawke



Series: Tumblr Prompts [5]
Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Anders Being an Asshole, F/M, Jealous Anders, anders critical
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-07
Updated: 2019-06-07
Packaged: 2020-04-12 09:39:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19129435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amata_Hawke/pseuds/Amata_Hawke
Summary: This was part of a fanfiction month. I didn't like very many of of my fics that I wrote as part of that event, so they haven't made their way here yet. However, I really liked this one. I’d always wanted to write this scene as it would have really gone with my canon Hawke. It's not a fun time for Anders, but, well, he brought it on himself as far as Hawke's concerned, and I agree with her.





	Day 9: An Argument

**Author's Note:**

> This was part of a fanfiction month. I didn't like very many of of my fics that I wrote as part of that event, so they haven't made their way here yet. However, I really liked this one. I’d always wanted to write this scene as it would have really gone with my canon Hawke. It's not a fun time for Anders, but, well, he brought it on himself as far as Hawke's concerned, and I agree with her.

For once, Hawke was happy to be helping Anders. Freeing him from that demon was a goal she could get behind absolutely. This was why she found herself in the sewers of Darktown yet again. The stench of the sewage had prompted her to cover her face with a bandanna before they had ventured down into the dark and dank tunnels, but even that barrier provided scant protection from something so foul.

Anders led the way into the darkness, Anna right behind him and Fenris and Aveline trailing after her. Silence as they descended into the bowels of the city, save for the muttered cursing coming from the Guard Captain at the back of the group. The glow of the mages’ staves provided the only light in the blackness of the tunnel. Anders glanced back at Annabelle, and she met his eyes. He hesitated, and then spoke.  
“I know it isn’t my place to criticize, but…” he said quietly, voice pitched low as if he thought he could prevent the others from hearing him, “are you sure about Fenris? He seems less a man to me than a wild dog.”

Any goodwill Anna had toward Anders up until that moment vanished in a flash of fury at the man. She scowled at him, much of the effect lost behind the mask of her bandanna, and tried not to snarl too much. “You just don’t know him,” she grated out through gritted teeth.  _Here? Now?_  What in blazes was Anders thinking?? The other mage averted his eyes for a moment.  
“I know as much as I’m ever likely to,” Anders replied, a slightly petulant tone coloring his voice.  
“That’s right, mage,” Fenris spat from behind her. Anna felt her scowl morph into a near smile in appreciation of Fenris’ choice of words–she was also a mage, but her magic did not define her the way it defined other mages, like Anders. The fact that she had magic did not blind her to the dangers of it or to the responsibility that came with it, as it did so many others. Fenris’ use of the word to address Anders was a reminder of that fact.  
“He has let one bad experience color his whole world,” Anders insisted, his voice gaining a touch of heat now. “Surely you want someone more open-minded?”

Annabelle stopped dead in her tracks and simply stared after Anders, her face blank with incredulity. Electricity popped as it cracked between her fingertips. She felt Fenris come to a stop just behind her, so close that his breath played across the skin of the side of her neck. He probably hadn’t expected her to stop, but she didn’t care. She could not believe the words that had just come out of Anders’ mouth. The other mage stopped and turned to face her, his expression a little disappointed, as if he thought she ought to agree with him and he was surprised that she had not reacted favorably.  
“I must have missed the memo,” she replied, her voice dangerously quiet, shaking with rage, “that a lifetime of slavery and torment is ‘ _one bad experience.’_ ”   
Anders frowned and opened his mouth to respond, but Hawke didn’t let him speak. “Or perhaps you missed the one about how I’m a mage, too? Did you  _ever_  stop to consider how a ‘ _wild dog_ ’ who universally hates mages could stand to so much as  _touch_  one?”  
Anders raised his hand as if to placate her, his voice tight. “All I’m saying is–”  
“’ _One. Bad. Experience,’_ ” Hawke spat, each word dripping with sarcasm and rage, her knuckles white on her staff now. The crystal set into its head was glowing with dangerous brilliance. “That’s a laugh, coming from you. What do you call your time in the Circle, then?”  
Anders went white, his eyes widening with fury. “You have no idea what you’re talking about,” he snarled back. “You’ve never–”

Annabelle aimed her staff at Anders and, with an effort of will, hit him with a shockwave of force that knocked him to the tunnel’s muddy floor, silencing him as the air fled his lungs with a  _woosh_. “And you,” she replied, her voice barely more than a whisper, “have  _no right_  to judge Fenris that way.” She stared down at the man on the ground as he scrabbled about, fighting against the lingering effect of her spell. She had not known such cold fury since she had killed Quentin. When she spoke next, her voice was flat, cold. “He has never attacked you in any way–which is more than I can say for myself now, I suppose–while you have spent the last six years actively trying to provoke him, looking for an excuse to attack him. Fenris treats mages with caution, but trusts us–trusts _you and Merrill_  in particular–at his back in a fight, while you can barely restrain yourself from attacking every Templar in Kirkwall, insisting they’re all as mad as Meredith even though we have  _ample_  evidence to the contrary.  _You_  are the ‘ _wild dog’_  here, Anders.  _‘More open-minded’,_  my arse.”

Anders planted his staff in the mud and used it to haul himself back to his feet, his face set in fury of his own. Hawke shook her head in disgust. “I’ll help you rid yourself of that demon, Anders,” she said flatly, her voice like iron, “but we’ll do this another day. Word of advice: take a look in the mirror before you go around judging people. You could use a little perspective.”

Finally finished venting her spleen upon the other mage, Annabelle Hawke turned her back on the man and slipped past Fenris and Aveline, leading the way back up and out of the sewers, back into Darktown. Fenris somehow followed her past Aveline, insinuating himself between them so he could speak into her ear as she marched, fuming, back toward the entrance to the sewers.  
“A mage and a hypocrite,” he said dryly. “What company you keep.”  
Anna snorted. “I think you have a good point there,” she replied breezily.


End file.
